Crystal Eyes
by Silver Sailor Ganymede
Summary: When the Dark Kingdom is resurrected and one of the shitennou missing from its ranks, Kunzite fears Zoisite lost for good. Things are not as they seem though, as the fourth king has been reborn also, as the son of Aino Minako, the former Sailor Venus...
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon.

Crystal Eyes  
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

Prologue

Darkness is light, hatred is love, conformity is security, individuality is death, ignorance is bliss, knowledge is stupidity, rebellion is foolisness, slavery is freedom: such were the ways of the Dark Kingdom, such were the ways of the Earth. It was not always like this, he remembered that much at least; he would forever have the darkness imprinted into his mind. Only the darkness, the corruption, the imprisonment: there was no salvation for the damned, there was no god, no devil, no supreme power that had any dictation over anything: only humanity, nothing more, nothing less, humanity and monsters and all rolled into one. After all, what was light other than the absence of darkness, what was purity other than the utmost form of corruption?

The shadows flitted about the walls, their forms writhing from torture, screaming in agony; they were entrapped within the darkness itself, the black energy that remained of Metallia. They were fools, traitors: those doomed to suffer even in this new, third age. Yes, this was not the old age, the first age, the age where the Moon Kingdom dominated over Moon, Earth and every other planet besides the Sun: in the end the Sun had been the downfall of the first kingdom, the ancient Solaran Princess, Metallia, having been released by their great Queen, who took the demonic entity into herself and defeated the Moon Kingdom, with its smoke and mirrors, it's illusionist rule. She had freed them from their roles as slaves to King Endymion XV and his corrupt Earthen government: after all, they were much more than merely guardians to a brat prince, were they not? There was nothing just about that time, for justice had never truly existed.

The second age, he remembered, was when they were first reawoken: he remembered nothing of the second age but the Dark Kingdom. He knew he had been someone before having become Kunzite once more, but he could not recall that, nor indeed did he wish too. All he remembered of the Dark Kingdom was that it was then as it was in the current age, though far weaker and not yet in alliance with Earth: they were stronger in the third age, so much stronger: perhaps because the Moon Kingdom lay in dust and the Queen in eternal sleep: perhaps because there were none foolish enough to attempt to oppose them, and those that did were soon… disposed of.

He remembered the beginning of the third age clearly enough: it was the beginning of their true rule, their time of glory. They had been resurrected by Queen Beryl, now free of the control of Metallia, though the ancient spirit still resided somewhere or other: that place, however, remained unknown to them. It did not matter now though; there was no chaos to release, nor any fools to oppose them; the vast majority of the senshi had either died in the first great battle or turned traitor to their old ideals and joined the Dark Kingdom, though some even then lived on in hiding.

He recalled that battle all too well; Queen Beryl had arisen from her thousand-year slumber, then reawakened Jadeite from his eternal slumber, the third king nearly having been driven insane by the time spent inside his crystal prison. That done she had resurrected himself and Nephrite: but one piece remained, as the shitennou were only three. Zoisite had not been recalled to servitude, as Queen Beryl feared him a traitor that would turn against them all at the worst possible moment, as he had almost done before. Kunzite had felt himself crushed by this, but in the end he hoped that the fourth king would be able to rest in peace… perhaps it was for the best.

He thoughts forced his thoughts away from the youngest of the kings, back to the invasion that had propelled them to their final glory. The Moon Queen and her consort had expected nothing, least of all what was actually to happen. The Crystal Palace had been stormed by an army of youma that even surpassed the one that had brought about the fall of the Silver Millennium more than two millennia before. The sheer number of their forces was perhaps what assured their victory; well, that and the power of the Dark Kingdom itself, which had increased perhaps tenfold whilst sealed away.

The senshi had either fallen to their attacks or betrayed their princess in order to save their own lives. The only senshi they had left alive and with her full power was the Chronos child, Sailor Pluto: after all, she was immortal, yet bound in such a way that she could do nothing. Besides, she was not pure, nor an angel, for what angel would have eyes the colour of blood?

Kunzite had himself been present when the fall itself had happened. He and the other two remaining tennou had been beside Queen Beryl in the throne room when the elder Serenity had fallen. Her throat had been slit, her heart pierced and her blue eyes clouded white by a well placed spell; she could not see the decline of her kingdom as she died, and that was perhaps the greatest mercy their great queen had ever shown to such an enemy. In the case of the younger Serenity and her consort, she was not so lenient, as they were both ripped to bloody shreds, the child's blood-coloured eyes gouged out so she too died blind, the priest made so weak by exhaustion and horror that he had to revert to his pegasus from before he too eventually died in the battle. The prince, now known as King Endymion XVI of Earth, had been knocked unconscious by a curse: the next time they laid eyes on him he had become King Edymion of the Dark Kingdom, consort of Queen Beryl, just as she had always wished. He was not who he had been; his eyes were blank, lifeless, his true nature suppressed by curses unimaginable: he had remained in such a state ever since.

The Gizuishou lost all its power when the Lunarian line was ended, thus signifying the supremacy of the Dark Kingdom over all else. The bodies of the Serenitys, both elder and younger, were kept encased in Crystal in the nether reaches of the Dark Kingdom as a permanent reminder of the fate that befell enemies of the Kingdom. Kunzite had only seen them in this state once, and indeed he never wished to again. Their bodies were still mutilated yet somehow still beautiful, though this beauty was only a macabre parody of beauty. True beauty was rare in the Dark Kingdom, if indeed almost completely unheard of: _he_ had been a true beauty… but he was gone now. He was not supposed to be gone, the shitennou were four in number after all, and yet… and yet…

Kunzite sighed then he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. The second king stood there, his auburn hair coiling down to his waist like a mess of discoloured snakes, his eyes glinting like snakes-eyes in the cold light also. He was leaning against a near wall, a bottle of some sort of alcoholic substance clutched in one hand. He looked somewhat bored, and looked up with a sneer on his face when the first king turned around.

"You shouldn't lament in such a way; it's completely unbecoming of a warrior of your status," Nephrite muttered.

"What are you doing here, Nephrite?" Kunzite asked, his grey eyes narrowing in annoyance at the fact that not only did the second king dare disturb him wish his presence, but the fact that he had been able to slip past the wards and indeed into that very room completely undetected.

"I'm here because I have nowhere else to go," Nephrite replied.

"Don't play that card with me, Nephrite; it doesn't work and well you know it."

Nephrite sighed, "And there I was hoping not to drink alone. Don't worry, Kunzite, I'll leave you to your lamenting: you do realise even Queen Beryl is growing quite tired of your pining after the rat, don't you."

"What?" Kunzite looked around, "You don't have any idea what you're talking about, fool."

"Don't I?" Nephrite raised an eyebrow then walked back to where the silver-haired king sat, took a seat himself and poured the grappa he had with him into two glasses that he had just conjured up out of nowhere. He handed a glass to the ice-king, who looked at the glass as he twirled it round in his hand, but didn't make any move to drink it. Nephrite wasn't surprised by this at all: the ice-king trusted no one, and with reason: trust was foolish in a kingdom such as theirs. Nephrite took a swig of the acrid liquid and Kunzite, deciding that if something did not cause the second king any harm then he too would be fine, followed suit.

There was silence between the two men for a while until Nephrite spoke again, setting his glass down on a nearby table. Kunzite was once again broken from his thoughts by the sound of glass on wood: he looked up and saw the second king sitting there, staring at the ceiling as though he was trying to see the stars shining on the impossibly black stone above him.

"You do realise that even Jadeite's realised that something is wrong with you, don't you?" Nephrite spoke at last.

"Wrong with me?" Kunzite laughed, "No, not with me, though I'd vouch that there will be plenty enough wrong with you next time you decide to disturb me like this with no apparent reason."

"Actually I do have a reason for coming here," Nephrite replied. "And before you ask, no, it's not simply because I don't like drinking by myself, though that might have something to do with it."

"Then perhaps you would want to tell me why you're here before I do something about it," Kunzite replied.

"Well like I said, even Jadeite's realised there's something up with you," Nephrite shrugged. "That means it's only a matter of time before Queen Beryl catches on too; you're pining after your lost bedfellow. It's foolish to do that, Kunzite; mortal emotions are of no benefit to us."

"Says the man that sacrificed himself for a human girl in his past life," Kunzite muttered and Nephrite laughed.

"This is the last time I do someone as ungrateful as you a favour," he muttered.

"A favour? You call barging in on me then lecturing me about things you know absolutely nothing about a _favour_? Tell me, Nephrite, did death make you even more of an idiot than you were in your past lives? I honestly didn't think that was possible."

Nephrite shook his head in despair at how the first king managed to retain such and icy tone to his voice even when insulting someone.

"Actually I just wanted to warn you that you'll be summoned by Queen Beryl soon and sent to the Earth Kingdom," Nephrite replied.

"And you know this how?"

"Take a leaf out of Jadeite's book and pay more attention to youma," Nephrite said, "They may be utterly simple, but they're far more observant than you would give them credit for."

With that the second king walked out of the room, leaving the first king alone in his study with only two glasses, a half-empty bottle of grappa and his thoughts to keep him from insanity.  
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Sure enough, what must have been a few hours later, Kunzite was awoken by a summons from their Queen. It was only upon waking that he realised that he had actually been asleep in the first place. He caught sight of the bottle of grappa that still stood on the table: it was empty. He assumed that he must have finished off the bottle after Nephrite left; it would certainly explain why his head felt as though someone had just shoved a foot-long shard of ice through it.

Then he remembered what had awoken him and teleported away to the throne room of the Dark Kingdom, where the usual sights and sounds of the queen's court greeted him. Youma and higher-ranking demons stood around the edges of the room, which were ever-changing as the portal in which it lay was unstable: she had remained in the same court as she had in the second age, preferring to let the Cyrstal Palace and all other monuments to Earthen civilisation fall into utter ruin as a reminder to whom it was that held power over the Earth now.

The Queen herself sat upon a throne made of the bones of traitors and enemies, the claw-like fingers of her right hand stroking a sphere of energy, the fingers of her left clasped around the hand of her king-consort, Endymion, who sat upon a similar throne next to her. The King seemed night to the Queen's day; her flaming hair and golden eyes marked her as the sun, whereas his ebony hair and midnight-shaded eyes reminded Kunzite of the sky on a typical Earthen night. The King sat there, lifeless in body as he was in his eyes, his soul gone, merely a plaything for Queen Beryl. He had been like this since their kingdom took him from his place on Earth. He was little more than the lowest of youma, though he bore, by Beryl's judgement, powers that rivaled even those of the shitennou.

Kunzite stepped forward, making his presence known, and the youma and demons along the edges of the court fell into silence. In situations like this he knew that he held power over the youma that was greater than that of the queen herself, something she despised greatly.

"Milady, milord," he said, bowing slightly to the two monarchs, for whom he in truth held no respect at all: no, of course, that they would ever realise that, as the king was mindless and the queen besotted with herself and the victory they had claimed.

"Kunzite," Queen Beryl gestured for him to rise. "I have a mission for you."

"A mission, milady?" he asked, wondering what on Earth this 'mission' would entail – for if Nephrite had told him the truth, which he very much doubted, he would actually be going to Earth for the first time in a… well he couldn't quite remember how long, but it was certainly a long time since he had visited that world.

"Kunzite, you are to go to Crystal Tokyo and observe the humans there," she told him. "You will be taking note of their practices, mentalities and the like in order that we are able to manipulate them to our advantage; humanity seems to have forgotten its place."

"Yes, milady," Kunzite nodded; he didn't like the sound of this at all, but at least it was better than being stuck round training soldiers like Nephrite or collecting energy like Jadeite.

"You are dismissed" Queen Beryl snapped, the tone in her voice indicating that the first king was to get a move on immeditely.

"Yes, milday," he bowed again then teleported back to his own quarters. He slumped down in his chair as soon as he got there, and sighed deeply. Observe the humans, says she; well it _is _better than some things… but still… he was a warrior, not a psychologist or whatever the humans called them. Humanity and its ways were of no interest to him.

He reached over to the bottle he had left on the table, and felt somewhat annoyed upon finding it empty; he was beginning to understand why Nephrite drank so much, and his 'mission' hadn't even started. In an uncharacteristic fit of annoyance he threw the empty bottle against the wall, where it smashed and fell into the black fire that was burning in the grate.

That was how the first king's stint among mortals was to commence: he could only hope that it would end in a better way than that in which it had begun.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter one

It was normal enough in those days to see tower blocks, which were on the verge of absolute ruin, still inhabited. Such ugly concrete structures had once had no place in the world, yet as time passed and poverty grew, so did desperation, forcing people to turn to wherever they could to find shelter. Crystal Tokyo, which was once supposedly the capital of a utopia so complete that I may have been Heaven on Earth, was now a living Hell, the entire region around it a gangland.

The smog lay thick over the tower blocks in Crystal Tokyo's central region, unusually so on the day in question: so much so in fact that few dared to go outside into the pollution, lest the smog fill their lungs and the clouds of acid rain, which hovered that day along the edge of the horizon, let loose their fill of toxins and claimed lives once more.

There was but one person in view on that day, if indeed it was still day at that time, as the smog made it difficult to tell the difference between the two. The woman in question was leaning against the edge of a crumbling stone balcony of the fourteenth floor of one of these apartment-towers. She was clearly somewhere other than this world, as her cerulean eyes betrayed the face that she was intoxicated by a combination of poisons that could potentially have been even more deadly than the acid rain. She reeked of a mixture of spirits and held something that looked like a cigarette in her hand, though it clearly wasn't tobacco held within the paper.

She took another deep drag of whatever cocktail of drugs she held in her hand and slumped down onto the floor as the first drops of rain began to fall. The rain was not too acidic, thankfully, so it was safe for her to be outside that night, and the worst that came to her was the layers of make-up she wore being smudged and running off her, eventually revealing a sunken face that must once have been radiantly beautiful: now she was only a shadow of her former self, stress and excessive toxins having caused her to begin to waste away.

Eventually the rain began to come down harder, matting the woman's hair, which must once have shone like spun gold but by then had become nothing more than a faded shade of yellow. She didn't seem to care though, if indeed she noticed it at all: if she were insane then she would not have been the first to have been made so by the utter ruin of her state. But her eyes, though clouded by years of substance abuse, were not those of one betrothed to insanity: she was still sane somehow, though perhaps that was not something that worked in her favour. Had she been insane she would have been able to forsake all those heinous memories that plagued her… but she was not, and still those century-old memories played over and over again in her mind, over and over and over again until she felt herself slipping away into despair, willing insanity to come to her… but of course it would not, life could not be so kind to one such as her.

She threw the burning ends of the cigarette to the floor then turned her face to the sky. Would that the sky could shine with the light of Sun and Moon as it once had, rather than synthetic flames and reacting chemicals that had polluted the Earth ever since the Dark Kingdom took control. The Earth was polluted, dying; there was no prospect of life flourishing again like it once had, never: a tear fell from her eye and snaked its way down her cheek, eventually falling to the ground, lost in the rain, just like all other tears she would cry.

Although there were few if any that were happy with the new empire of the Dark Kingdom, this woman was perhaps one of the unhappiest with each turn of events that further empowered their new rulers. The reason for this was most probably because she was one of the few who remained that remembered the Crystal Kingdom that had ruled before the ascension of Queen Beryl to Earth's throne: most were under the impression that the world had been in such a state since time immemorial. She knew better though: that was why she was agonised in such a way, because she knew what could have been… what, in her mind, should have been even up to that very day. Utopia was too fragile for mortal minds, peace something they could not accept; after all, order cannot exist without chaos, no matter how hard people would try to prove otherwise.

She had once been one of those that had attempted to hold the world in a state near enough to Eden forever, no matter that it was against the will and laws of the universe itself, no matter that she knew even then that nothing is eternal… except for her life, her torment still eternal even after the demise of her kingdom and her queen… She had tried to take her life before, but in the end had given up on trying; that was the curse of the children of Aphrodite; they were as immortal as the daughters of the Moon, and indeed all other planets except for Earth had been before her.

Aphrodite… Venus… Kingdom… Senshi… Minako. No matter how hard she tried to repress these memories, they would come back to her time and time again… time and time and time… why had Setsuna not prevented this, why had she not warned them? Why? Was time so cruel as to have them suffer so? It seemed that way, it had always been that was… a kingdom of lies was not meant to last, nothing lasted, nothing… nothing… and she was less than nothing, one of few survivors of a time when life was good and bright… and built on lies. Perhaps it was better this way, in the Darkness, under the rule of the Dark Kingdom… perhaps not, she wouldn't let herself understand fully, she never would, never, never…

"Minako?" a questioning voice came to her and she looked up, realising for the first time that tears were blinding her moreso than the rain. In front of her stood a young boy, probably no more than fourteen years of age, though he looked younger again than that due to his small size and effeminate features. His eyes were the colour of zoisite stones – not tanzanite, thulite or anyolite, just pure chrome zoisite, the most rare and, in Minako's mind at least, most beautiful form of the stone. His hair, in stark contrast, was blonde, like her own, though his was less like dulled corn and more like tarnished gold. That was the only way to describe it, no matter that the said gold does not tarnish – even gold can tarnish, even diamonds can break, even Heaven can fall…

"Minako?" he spoke again, pulling her to her feet as he did so. She slipped and clutched onto the boy's shirt, crying into his shoulder as she did so. What had she done to make him so cold? Why was her own son so heartless that he wouldn't even call her 'mother'? She supposed after a moment's thought that it was partly her own fault… but they did what they did because it was all they _could _do: beauty was coveted above all else in a land such as theirs, was it not?

"Zoisite," she whispered, clinging closer onto him as she shook with sobs. "Zoisite…" She had named him after that stone, that one stone she found more beautiful than even her beloved Topaz: his eyes were the colour of those stones, and indeed it was fitting that they were also hard as gems, no matter how beautiful they would appear at times…

She felt him leading her inside then she collapsed onto the moth-eaten chair they had in the main room of their dingy little apartment. It shook even under her slight weight and she felt her stomach lurch at the sudden movement. She shouldn't have been inside… she should have been out there in the rain… the rain that washed away her sorrows… but in the end even that had become a toxin to her, just another form of waste…

"Why did you bring me in?" she asked, turning her blue eyes to her son's green ones.

"I didn't want it to happen again," he snapped in reply and threw a tattered towel in her direction. She blinked in confusion then realised that she was soaked to the bone from sitting out in rain and began to dry off when she realised that the water was running down her face and mixing with her tears… perhaps he wouldn't notice, but then again she could only hope…

"You're a fool, mother," he sighed as she sat there with water still dripping both into and from her eyes. "You're going to try to kill yourself again if you stay out in that rain for long amounts of time."

"Maybe I want to," said she.

"You're a _fool_."

"I know."

"Why do you do this?" he yelled, his temper leaving him. "You damn yourself to a life like… like _this _and then you throw yourself out into the rain like you want to kill yourself and… and… well why don't you just do it now if you want to so much! A gunshot to the head would do you away much quicker than the filthy rain and I know for a fact that you know where to get them – who doesn't in a place like this?"

"Why must you insist on arguing?" she sighed.

"Me?" he laughed. "It's your idiotic behaviour that leads to this! For crying out loud I'm fourteen and I know better than you do! If you could just attempt to act responsible for one second… but you don't even know the meaning of the word, no one does who would have a child_ working _on the streets in such a manner."

"We both have to do this because there's nothing else we _can _do," she shrugged, still sitting there, still staring at the damp patches on the crumbling concrete walls.

"I've had enough of this," he shook his head in desperation. "This is fucking ridiculous!" He stormed over to the door and pushed it open, nearly kncoking it off its hinges as he did so, then left the appartment and Minako, who was once again silently crying, but Zoisite didn't see; the door had already shut itself behind him.

Zoiste stormed down the stairwell and out of the main entrance to their appartmant block. He didn't even have to think about where he was going; his feet seemed to know their own way around the backstreet: he stormed out of his 'home' so often that it wasn't really much of a surprise that that was the case. Nor indeed was it much of a surprise to them that he was once again on the backstreets of Crystal Tokyo; he spent most of his life out there after all: the rain was no bother to him. In fact the only time it bothered him at all was when it concerned Minako and her suicidal tendencies: he had never known why the rain made her like it did: he liked the rain, no one went out in the rain so he rarely had to '_work_'. Yes, he was only happy when it rained, only happy when the rain came down and washed away the layers of make-up and sin from him and vieled his face from view.

After a while Zoisite stopped in his tracks and fell back against a graffiti-covered wall then fell down onto the broken floor. It was fine there really, at least he thought so: besides anywhere was better than the skanky motels where he usually ended up and the nymphomaniacs and drunken twats he usually found himself with: it paid well yes, but nevertheless he despised it. Yes… the street was fine, fine, fine: not even the appartmant was better than the street, no matter that it became somewhat uncomfortable after a while. But no, better the street than the appartmant: what was there for him back there after all except for his mother's drug-induced depression and foolishness?

Running away had been a dream of his for so many years, but of course he never did it fully, no matter how much he wanted to. He would be back by dawn he knew that much at least… but what harm would one night on the streets do to him? He could do nothing more than hide from Minako and try to stop his own sanity from slipping, and one night on the streets would do him some good most probably. He lost himself within his own mind and the rain continued to fall.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter two

At around the same time Aino Zoisite had fled from his appartmant in a fit of rage, another also lay awake, staring at the rain as it fell outside, somewhat glad that he was not out there in it: but then again the place he was in seemed little better than the streets, at least to him. Then again the silver-eyed man was used to castles, albeit that the castles he resided in back in his home were in little better a state than the majority of tower-blocks in that area, no matter what he would attempt to convince himself of.

The man's name was Kunzite and he was the highest ranking of the three remaining Shitennou of the Dark Kingdom: perhaps it was this assumed ranking that had caused him to be sop utterly furious upon his designation to the task at hand, one that required him to lower himself to the level of mortals and dirty his hands with their filth. Filth, filth that the Dark Kingdom itself had long ago condemned humans to live in: filth, sin and blood, all mortal minds now tainted, innocence nothing more than a myth that had been lost to them forever. Darkness was hatred, yet perhaps it was a blessing that they believed it had always been this way; for any human to have remembered what had come before would have been to condemn them to the fringes of insanity; not, of course, that there were any alive that remembered it: except perhaps the senshi, but that was what the senshi deserved, was it not? The senshi deserved insanity for what they had done, for their alliance to the princess and hatred of Endymion, for their faliure to save him from Queen Beryl… for their failure to save _them _from Queen Beryl. That was what one got from attempting to build a utopia on lies; corruption would grow and grow, and in the end it would devour all that had tried to rid the world of it.

Kunzite shook these thoughts from his mind and stared up at the ceiling above him. He had known it was raining even before he had looked out of the window; the room had begun to stink even more potently of damp than it usually did and stains had begun to appear on the ceiling where water had got in. This was the only disadvantage of living in a place that was deserted in that day and age; even magic wouldn't repair such ruins. He sat up on the bed and shook his head in despair; he didn't know how much longer he could stand this. Still, living in such a run-down place had its advantages; after all, no one would ever think to look for _anyone _in such a place, let alone on of the Shitennou. Kunzite knew that even if any foolish gang-rats found him there, he could kill them without so much as batting an eyelid, but he didn't really want to waste the energy on having to do so.

He stood up and walked out of the room he used as a bedroom – contrary to popular sleep, even the Shitennou needed sleep, something anyone that had met Nephrite could testify to, though the second king's slumbers were more often than not induced by excessive amounts of alcohol. Kunzite groaned and placed his head in his hands as he leant back against the door, which was so rotten that it creaked and threatened to collapse under his weight. Gods this was getting bad, he really had to get back to the Dark Kingdom soon; he was even starting to miss _Nephrite_, damnit!

Kunzite stood motionless in the living room for a minute, letting himself take in the putrid aroma of damp, filth and dust that hung constantly in the air their like a blanket, then wandered past the moth-eaten sofa into the kitchen of the filthy place. He turned on the hob and began to brew himself up some coffee. Soon enough the aroma of coffee had somewhat masked the lingering smell that seemed to have soaked into the ruined building. Sighing, Kunzite decided that he had really begun to understand why Nephrite was so damn addicted to alcohol; it blanked out the atrocity that was the Earth, at least for a while. In the time he had been there, Kunzite had decided to take up somewhat on Nephrite's theory and drink a little more than he had priorly done, no matter that he knew that it didn't _really _do him any good at all, but he still put a good measure of brandy into the coffee before gulping down a first cup, then pouring himself a second, sipping more slowly this time.

In his short stint among mortals, Kunzite had so far managed to understand one thing; Queen Beryl's obsession with Endymion and ruling the world had led her to completely overlook one important thing; the subjects of the Earth itself. The vast majority dwelt in poverty that was almost unimaginable even in the Dark Kingdom; perhaps that was why recruits were almost always happy to join their armies, he mused as he took another swig of his alcohol infused drink.

Deciding that standing around in the kitchen was not going to do him any good whatsoever, Kunzite wandered into his pathetic excuse for a living room, set himself down on the moth-eaten sofa, which groaned pathetically under his weight, and switched on an ancient, rather battered appliance he believed humans called a television. The news began blaring from its screen and he snorted as it played: the Dark Kingdom would say such things, wouldn't they? Everything that was being broadcast about current affairs had been censored in one way or another, so it was hardly the news at all but more of a fictional story made up to please the minds of those too simple to think otherwise.

He then turned his attention away from the nonsense on the television screen and stared once again out of the window. The rain was falling even more heavily than it had been, the lights outside distorted and making it seem like a great orange fire was in the process of devouring Crystal Tokyo.

'Perhaps that's just what this place needs,' he mused, 'it certainly is a ruin; the youma would have burnt it to the ground long ago had they had any say in the matter… Gods, I'm even starting to sound like Nephrite; staying among mortals for so long obviously never did him any good. Perhaps that was the real reason that I was sent instead of that fool; he probably would have turned into a human if he had been among them for any longer an amount of time…'

Kunzite took another sip of coffee and continued starting at the falling rain. There was such beauty in the rain; Zoisite had been right, he had loved the rain as he had loved the sakura trees, and indeed anything else of beauty, though Kunzite did not consider himself to be beautiful, no matter that he had been the subject of the little rat's affections. With this his thoughts returned once again to why he had been sent to Earth, and what Nephrite had said to him right before he arrived in this sordid place once more: even Beryl had picked up on his longing for the forth shitennou, no matter how much he tried to hide it. The disguising of emotion had once been his strong point, but in this life he had more difficulty than he had priorly in appearing completely without emotion, a true king of ice.

Perhaps she would not see through him when he returned, he mused; his old skill seemed to have returned to him in these long months in the desolation that was Earth. He he been there for a little over two months, by his calculations, though it may as well have been two centuries; the passing of time there, like in the Dark Kingdom, was marked only by birth and death; nothing of any use seemed to lay in between the two points. Humans lives on Earth were empty, just like the streets below him: perhaps that was why so many came willingly to train in the Dark Kingdom, he wondered, perhaps that was only because they saw even a torturous life as better than death, he would never be able to figure that out properly. But yes, human lives were empty, just like the streets below him: empty except for filth. Mortal souls had, by that point, become more tainted than even those of the youma. Fools they were, such power hungry fool… just like he had been when he was still human, when he was still in possession of his own soul.

Such utter desolation, he thought again as he stared into the smog-filled sky, it was far worse than even the nether-regions of the Dark Kingdom, far, far worse. That was why had had grown fond of the rain; it was one of the last forms of beauty in such a world as this, a purity to wash away the filth… yet even the rain was becoming polluted with sin.

He set the empty coffee-cup down on the table and turned towards the door; being cooped up was no good for him at all when he was in such a mood, he had to do _something _to clear his mind. He pushed open the door and wandered out into the hallway, avoiding a gaping hole in the floor as he did so. The rest of the building was completely uninhabited, and upon seeing it one would immediately see why. There were cracks everywhere where the mainframe of the building was on the verge of collapse, and the other side of the block was in a state of utter ruin already; even magic had been unable to fix the quarters he was in to a decent standard. It was a pity really that Beryl had not decided to give him decent accommodation while he stayed in a place like that, which was hell enough in itself, but alas that there was nothing he could do about that.

He cringed at the thought that, in the poorest precinct of the city, tower blocks in an even worse state than that were still inhabited by many people; it was squalid in condition as an old Victorian slum, he thought as his stomach began to churn at the mere thought of those horrible places. Shaking the images of poverty out of his mind, Kunzite exited the building and walked out into the night.

The rain was falling heavily by that time, the acid in it stinging him somewhat but not enough for him to pay any attention to. The sky was veiled by an ever-present blanket of smog; the stars were about as visible there as they were in the Dark Kingdom; it was a true sign that the reign of the moon had long ago ended. He had always been untrusting of the moon and its ways, it's great diamond eye forever seemingly studying the Earth in much the same way that a man with a microscope would study the organisms that divide and multiply on the glass before his eyes. It was something of a relief to Kunzite to have had that great eye taken away from the Earth forever… yet there were other forces observing them all now, forces so malicious that they would turn against their own if they so much as suspected them of thinking of something that would go against their general ideals. Perhaps they of the Dark Kingdom were as bad as the children of the Moon had been long before them… he shook that notion from his mind immediately; that was impossible, they could not be… yet what was the nature of humanity other than hypocrisy after all?

Upon arising from his revere, Kunzite realised that he had somehow wandered into the poorest part of Crystal Tokyo, the slums of this world, where only the desperate would live. Illegal activity was so common in such an area that even the most brutal of murders would go unnoticed by all but those involved: humans and youma had become the same in that respect.

As he walked he noticed that there were few others on the streets that night. He saw one man passed out in an alleyway, muttering incoherently to himself or whatever his mind told him was there; insanity too was common in such places. A while later he noticed a young girl on a street corner; her entire demeanour told him that she was a prostitute of some kind, though he wasn't interested in any such thing at that moment, and the girl was staring off into nowhere and didn't even seem to realise his presence as he passed her by. Such was Crystal Tokyo; a complete reverse of what it had apparently been under Neo-Queen Serenity's reign, where even the lowest of the regions had been nothing in comparison to this. Of course everything surrounding the Serenitaen line was a myth, and myth but a mere basis in truth, and thus was not credible, leastways to him, who knew how the Serenitaen regime had begun millennia before.

After a while Kunzite decided to pause momentarily outside a backstreet; he did not know how long he had been walking for, and quite frankly he didn't care, but he did know that there was something there he had to see… but what that was he did not know. It was then that he noticed a young boy in the shadows of the alleyway. His face was covered in makeup, which had been caused to smudge all down his face by the unrelenting rain, though this only served to make his zoisite eyes and golden hair even more preternatural in the shadows. Zoisite eyes, how very perculiar they seemed, how very familiar the boy's face was… too familiar in fact. He turned momentarily to face Kunzite: then there was little doubt if any in the man's mind as to whom the child in question was. His first instinct was to run over and embrace the child… yet there was still this slim, almost non-existent chance that it wasn't him, that he was only imagining things. He had been among mortals for too long, Kunzite decided; instead of running over to the boy like he so wished to do, he teleported away, back to his ruined appartment, where he fell onto the sofa, staring up at the ceiling in shock; he made no attempt to disguise his emotions, after all what need did he have to do so?

But then again it _could _have been nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him, and indeed he hoped it had; what a tragedy it would be for one so beautiful as him to have been reborn to a life such as this! Yet in whatever heart he had left, Kunzite hoped, no, he _knew _the truth; that boy had not just _seemed _familiar to him: Zoisite was no longer gone from him; he had been reborn, the epitome of beauty once more entered into a world unfitting of him. Now all Kunzite had to do was wait for fate to take its course.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter three

A few days passed without event after Kunzite's first sighting of the beautiful boy. He had long ago learnt that human behaviours were monotonous and uninteresting, and that whatever culture they may once have had had died a long time beforehand; there was indeed little if any more for him to understand before his return to the Dark Kingdom.

That evening Kunzite had decided that he would take a walk through the town once more and see what he could observed around him as he did so. There were once again few people around, no matter that the rain had ceased to fall. It seemed that mortals found the darkness as oppressing, if not more so than they had in the olden days, when the light was still in power and darkness feared by its very name.

He continued walking down the street, letting his thoughts envelope him as he did so. Mortals were fools, he decided, seeing as they feared the darkness and shunned the mysterious beauty that lay shrouded within it. Such a pity it was that humans would only allow themselves to see what they wanted to, even if that did not include the truth. Let them fool themselves into thinking that they still lived in a beautiful dystopia run by the Serenitaen line of the Moon Kingdom, let them live a rose-tinted lie, though how any could in such a time was something that was beyond his understanding.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that Kunzite did not see the person heading straight toward him: in fact he only realised that there were any others still out of the streets when he collided headlong into the young boy, knocking him backwards onto the ground.

"Watch where you're going!" a voice yelled out and Kunzite looked down at the child in front of him. He couldn't have been older than twelve, Kunzite decided, though the look in his strange, green eyes told a completely different story. Perhaps it was his build, which was extremely slight for all the leather he had covered himself in, that made him look so young. Such a perculiar looking child, with eyes the colour of zoisite stones and hair that could only have been said to be the colour of tarnished gold. Yes, even gold would tarnish in times like those: even the most pure of substances would fall from the prior grace.

"Are you gonna apologise or what?!" the boy yelled at Kunzite, and for all his apparent temper he was not intimidating in the slightest, sitting there on the pavement like a broken doll. Kunzite quickly informed him of this, avoiding answering his question, and the boy became riled even further. "Bastard," he spat as he pulled himself to his feet.

"No one has ever taught you the manners, have they?" Kunzite drawled.

"No one's ever taught _you_ them either, or you would have apologised for slamming into me like that!" he shouted.

"Well I admit that I wasn't watching where I was going, but it's quite plain to me that you weren't either," Kunzite sighed. There was something oddly familiar about the boy, not only his foul temper but his looks as well. It was then that he realised that this was the same boy he had seen on the night of the rainstorm, but there was something about him that was far more familiar than that… far, far more… but no, it couldn't be… could it?

Kunzite began to walk off, attempting to leave the boy in question behind, as well as the memories that were coming into his mind. It couldn't possibly be _him_; he was a fool to even consider it. He noticed after a while that the boy was walking alongside him.

"Don't you have somewhere to go?" Kunzite asked. "You seemed in something of a hurry earlier."

"Nah," the boy shrugged, "Well okay, I was, but I'm not now. They won't bother me if I'm with someone else anyway."

"Who won't bother you?" Kunzite asked, curiosity rising in his mind.

"Nicked this," the boy pulled a wallet out of his pocket and smirked. "Nice way of getting money without having to do any _work_." The way he spat out the word made Kunzite wonder what kind of 'work' the boy did, but he decided not to persue the matter for the moment.

"What's your name, kid?" Kunzite asked instead.

"I'm not a kid!" the boy yelled, his green eyes filling with fury and… bitterness, was it?

"Then how old are you?"

"I'm fourteen," the boy replied and Kunzite raised an eyebrow. "I'm _serious_!"

"Small for fourteen aren't you? Most boys are a lot taller than you are at this age."

"Shut up," the boy hissed, then he sighed, "Well at least you didn't mistake me for a girl."

"You're pretty enough to be a girl. A bit flat though," Kunzite stated, smirking as he noticed an infuriated blush creep into the boy's face. "And you haven't answered my question, what's your name?"

"The name's Aino," he replied, "Aino Zoisite. Bit stupid isn't it, naming a guy after a _gemstone_. Guess she called me that because of my eyes. Hey are you okay, you've gone pale…"

"Aino Zoisite," Kunzite repeated, shocked by what he had just been told. So it _was _him… and by the looks of it there was even more to the story of his reincarnation than that.

"Yes, that's my name," Zoisite snapped. "And _yes_, _she _is my mother. Now what else do you want to know?"

"Do you mind me asking who 'she' is?"

"You mean you don't know?" Zoisite frowned. "Thought everyone would know by now; I mean she's probably slept with about nintey percent of the guys round here at least once, or near enough that many. At least I wouldn't be surprised if she had…" he looked up at Kunzite, "You're not from around here, are you?

"How could you tell?"

Zoisite shrugged, "You just don't look it. I mean I wouldda pegged you for a gang lord or something, but you look too… I dunno, I guess you look to sober, to down to Earth. They've always got scantily clad girls, and in some cases pretty guys clinging all over them, and they're never without some sort of illegal substance, even round these places where people would probably try and jump even then: most don't give a damn about your supposed 'status' in these parts you know. Then again I doubt that any of them would bother showing their faces _here_. They'd be too ashamaed to, I know they would; we're too close to being a slum for even the crime kings to show their faces here."

"That's nice to know, not stop dodging my Metallia-damned questions and give me an answer," Kunzite snapped. Normally this sort of thing wouldn't bother him at all but this boy kept on doing it so often that it was causing him to get rather annoyed. At that moment  
Kunzite decided that that was why Nephrite had such a short temper; he spent too much time around humans and was at risk of turning into one of them himself.

"My mother's name's Aino Minako," Zoisite replied.

Aino Minako, so that proved all of Kunzite's suspicions. Aino Minako, the former guardian of Venus and leader of the sailor senshi, was still alive, still illuding the Dark Kingdom's forces… and now she was Zoisite's mother as well.

Seeing the look of recognition flit across Kunzite's face, Zoisite smirked, "So you _do _know her."

"I did, a long time ago," Kunzite replied, and indeed this was almost the truth.

"Serenity's blood," Zoisite spat as his face crumpled into an expression of absolute disgust. "I've heard that sort of thing so many times from so many different people that I swear to Beryl I'm gonna be sick whenever someone says that now. Why of all the things she could have worked as did she have to… and why do I…" he growled slightly, then turned to Kunzite. "I was talking to myself again, wasn't I? Wonderful I'm going even _more _insane."

Kunzite chuckled slightly but quickly silenced himself as the boy beside him shot him a glare as venomous as a snake's poison.

"Anyway I suppose you already knew all that. Now it's my turn to ask a question; you still haven't told me who _you _are," Zoisite stated.

"And I have no intention of doing so," Kunzite replied.

"So you get me to spill all this and expect to get away without telling me anything in return?" Zoisite hissed, "What happened to equivalent exchange and all that?"

"Those rules died when the Serenetean line was ended," Kunzite replied. "And don't worry, sakura; I'll tell you what you want to know sometime soon."

Zoisite opened his mouth to say something else to the older man, but he never got the chance as Kunzite had disappeared before his very eyes. It was as if the icy man had never been there at all.

* * *

Kunzite felt a familiar sickness set in as he reentered the blackness of the Dark Kingdom. Youma were swarming around him like so many bees around their queen in a crowded hive, but in this hive it was not honey that dripped from the walls but blood. 

"What are you doing back here so soon?" a voice asked and Kunzite appeared from the shadows. Kunzite noted with surprise that the Third King was sober for the first time in what must have been a few hundred years by his reckoning.

"I have news for Queen Beryl," Kunzite replied curtly, "News that I need to report to her immediately."

"And what news might this be?" Nephrite asked. Had it been anyone else then Kunzite may have considered telling them, but remembering the old emnity between Zoisite and the Third King he decided that it was a far better idea to remain quiet.

"It's none of your concern, Nephrite," Kunzite replied, striding past the auburn haired man, deeper into the labyrinth that was the Dark Kingdom.

All portals, such as the one he had just used, led directly to the Queen's Palace unless instructed specifically not to do so. In that case this was convenient to the First King; the sooner he saw their ruler, the more chance he had of escaping with both his and Zoisite's lives.

He soon came to the doors of the Dark Kingdom Queen's Throne room, which were made of some sort of black stone that he had never seen anywhere other than in the Dark Kingdom itself. He knocked on the doors then stood back and waited. Then the doors swung silently open and Hell was revealed.

The main torture and execution chambers in the Dark Kingdom covered roughly the same space as the Queen's Palace itself, however one could see the bodies of some of the victims held there like trophies, half-alive but in such great pain that Kunzite could hardly even imagine it. But that was why Beryl held such absolute power over Earth; no one dared contradict her reign in any way, however slight, for fear that they would end up in that state themselves.

He repressed a shudder upon recalling the last time there had been an uprising against Beryl's rule. It had been hundreds of years before, but he suspected that many of those suspended from the walls around him had been involved in it; not that there was any way for him to tell, as none of the bodies looked even remotely human any more.

Kunzite stopped up reaching the foot of the Queen's throne, which was raised on a dias high above the ground, much as she was raised high above the population over which she ruled. She sat there, a twisted mockery of the goddess she had always perceived herself to be, with him at her side: him, Endymion, the man whom he would have protected if it were not for his foolish trust in the Lunarians. Endymion, the human fool who had long ago inadvertently caused all of this chaos.

He could feel their eyes burning into him as he stood there; hers distorted, tarnished, bloodstained gold, his lifeless, an unseeing ocean of confusion and despair.

"Kunzite," at last Beryl spoke at, her rasping voice terrifying against the unearthly silent screams that shrouded not only the Throne Room but the Dark Kingdom as a whole. "Why have you come back? I thought I made it clear that you were only to return her once I commanded that you do so: either that or if something of utmost importance came to your attention."

"Something of utmost importance has indeed come to my attention," Kunzite replied curtly, keeping his head bowed so that she could not see the expression of disgust on his face. Even being in the presence of their supposed ruler was enough to make the Ice King feel sick to his very soul, if he even had one that was.

Even in his current position he could see the flash of irritation pass through her features. It was not wise to make the Queen impatient, not wise at all, he mused.

"Then speak," she snarled, venom ever-present in her voice.

"I trust you remember the Sailor Senshi, my Queen?" Kunzite drawled. He did not care how unwise it was of him to make an enemy of Beryl; she had sent him to live among mortal filth for a while, surely she did not expect him to return in any semblance of a good mood?

"Of course," she replied shortly, "Don't play games with me, Kunzite. It's unbeccoming of you; you might even end up like Nephrite if you aren't careful of what you say."

Kunzite privately thought that he would never end up anything at all like the alcoholic Second King; Nephrite was too human, he had too many vices to ever truly be able detach himself completely from the mortal world in the same way Kunzite himself did. However he did not voice any of these thoughts to his ruler, for that would have been both pointless and dangerous to what was left of his life. Instead he continued with his explanation as he had been commanded to do.

"It his come to my attention that one of the senshi is still alive," Kunzite stated. "We may well have Mizuno Ami under our control, but Aino Minako escaped after the rebellion. I have managed to locate her now; it seems she's taken to living in the slums of Neo-Tokyo: she has fallen far since we last saw her."

A cruel smile came onto Beryl's face, malicious pleasure etched into her harsh features, causing her to seem even more demonic than she was, if that were even possible.

"There is something else you need to tell me, Kunzite," she hissed, "I can tell by your eyes."

He shivered mentally at the Queen's ability to tell such things, for most would have seen nothing more than an emotionless mask upon looking at him. Kunzite sighed and, argentine eyes still fixed on the ground, away from his mistress, he spoke.

"It appears that the final king has been reborn on Earth," he stated. "Zoisite has been reborn. He is now the son of the Venian senshi, though I doubt that either have any recollection as to his identity."

"So Zoisite is human now?" Beryl asked, the curiosity in her voice impossible to disguise.

"That is correct," Kunzite replied, beginning to fear what she was about to say.

"Well if he is human then we have no choice," she stated, the sadistic smile appearing on her face once again. "How old is he?"

"He said he was fourteen, milday," Kunzite told her, dread setting into his very sould, or at least what was left of his soul, as he waited for her to confirm his fears.

"And he is the only son?" she asked. "But wait, it is Zoisite, our treacherous fourth king. Such rules do not apply to him. He must be dealt with no matter what.

"Kunzite, you are to return to the human world for a time and observe the boy. You must bring him back with you as soon as you are commanded to do so, understood?"

"But my queen, the training for this year's batch has already begun," the feeble protest left Kunzite's mouth before he could stop it.

"He was one of my strongest warriors, he'll surely surpass all others even if he begins late," came the response. "All young boys are to be trained as soldiers for our kingdom; that is the law. _I _am the law, Kunzite, and you _do not defy me_."

"Yes, my queen," Kunzite said at last, his voice forced and almost inaudible. "I will do as you command."

"Then leave my sight," she snarled. "I have no more time for you, Kunzite."

He bowed to the hellish sovereign and then left the room, striding out into the labyrinth of corridors that made up the Queen's Palace. So it had finally come, the time for him to be reunited with Zoisite, but it had come with a price, as expected from such a world.

"She will not have his soul this time," Kunzite vowed. He disappeared from the endless night of the Dark Kingdom then, back to the human world, away from one demon and into the maw of another.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter four

Zoisite loved to watch the shadows dance, their forms macabre parodies of beauty twisting and twirling under what little starlight that penetrated through the smog that shrouded the Earth. At times he would just lie in his room and stare mindlessly at the shadows, letting the spirits within them take over the sane, conscious part of his mind.

He didn't have to work that night, and Minako – no, not mother, never mother, always Minako, had gone out to do Metallia-knew-what with Metallia-knew-who. So he was there, alone, all alone, completely on his own with the shadows, the stars and his twisted thoughts, just the way he liked it best. Sometimes he despaired for humanity, just wanted everyone on this world either dead or prostrating themselves at his feet, so it was good to be alone, at least for a while.

He tore his gaze away from the shadows and looked up at the sky, the tainted grey mass that sprawled forever onwards outside his window. Books he had read before had said that the sky wasn't always so putrid a colour as it was now. It had been black as sin then, even though the world was not so sinful; velvet-sheets embrodied with diamonds acting as a drape to hide the world away from all that lay beyond it.

Zoisite sighed and stood up, wondering what use such thoughts honestly were to him; to brood on such things was nothing more than a waste of time after all. The world was far too polluted for them to do anything about now; but then again what was purity but another, more twisted form of corruption?

He frowned, wondering where he had heard that statement before; god only knew where, and besides it didn't really matter, did it? Then again what did matter in a world like this? Was there any reason for him to be here anymore?

Stepping out onto the balcony attached to his room, which Zoisite honestly didn't think was that safe for him to be standing on any more, ruined as it was, he shuddered as the cold hit him and stared up at the sky. It was polluted, ruined, just like he was.

He felt sick suddenly, choking and falling down to the ground. Wasn't it possible for anyone to live _life _now, or were they all imprisoned by fickle, stupid glass vices? Then again that was the only way for most of the people to be able to survive; it was either this or death, and something called out to him, telling him that death would be the preferable option by far. This wasn't life; this was just trawling through a pointless existence waiting to die, wanting death and wanting peace.

Why was he thinking like this? The world had always been broken… hadn't it? There was a voice plaguing the back of his mind, telling him that something can't be broken unless it was once whole, but the reality of life begged to differ with that statement.

'_You were whole once, a long time ago,' _a voice in the back of his mind whispered.

Zoisite laughed, "I was born broken, fool." He knew he would have looked like a madman, sitting on that crumbling balcony in the middle of the night, talking to himself: an insane insomniac, plagued forever by shadows of his dreams and nightmares.

'_Maybe you have always been broken in this life, but you were whole in the ones that came before it.'_

He knew that voice wasn't going to leave him alone, not while he was sitting out here brooding like a fool. Zoisite stood up, planning to head indoors, then an image struck him, as clear in his mind's eye as though it had been burned into his retina. A man while hair and eyes so pale he could have been a ghost – it was him; that strange man he had quite literally run into a few days earlier.

Zoisite slammed the door behind him and sat down in the living room, wondering how long it would be before the sofa he was sitting on broke. It wasn't much better than the floor really, especially now that all the springs in it were broken.

He turned on the television in front of him, slamming a fist into the top of the old piece of junk to see if he could get a signal. Luckily it worked for once, and it wasn't long before Zoisite found himself staring mindlessly at the stupid, brightly coloured images that were flashing endlessly across the screen.

No matter how intently his strangely coloured eyes seemed to be watching the screen, Zoisite was far from concentrating on it. The fact that it was up at full volume had done nothing to prevent it from becoming little more than an annoying background noise while he lost himself to his thoughts once again.

No matter how hard he tried, Zoisite couldn't seem to get that enigmatic silver-haired man from his thoughts. He hadn't felt anything like that around anyone before, much less around someone who he didn't even know. Hell he didn't even know the man's name! But still, there was just something about him that seemed… strange… familiar almost. He supposed that might have been why he had been so unusually rude to him; Zoisite didn't know what he was feeling when he had seen that strange man, and whatever it was had caught him off-guard. He didn't like that feeling one bit.

"Maybe he was an enemy of mine in a past-life," Zoisite laughed to himself. It sure would explain a lot.

'_Or a lover,'_ the voice in the back of his mind piped up. Zoisite felt a blush paint itself over his normally white cheeks. A lover? Don't be stupid, 'love' and 'lovers' were just stupid things made up to be included in those ancient fairytales his mother had told him when he was a lot younger. When he had still been young and almost innocent, Zoisite had believed in those fairytales, in that stupid thing called 'love.'

'_You still believe in it, don't lie to yourself.'_

"Shut up!" Zoisite yelled. "You're wrong! _You're wrong_! Only a fool would believe in such an idiotic thing! It's about as real as peace; that never existed either!"  
_  
'It did, and well you know it. Stop this stupidity, Zoisite. You know he wouldn't have liked to see you become so jaded as this.'_

"Who wouldn't?"

'_Him. You know who I mean.'_

Cold, silver… ice king: the man's face seemed to have etched itself permanently into Zoisite's mind now. The boy briefly wondered if he'd had some sort of spell cast on him that was making him feel like this, but he laughed that off too. No human could use magic – only gods like Metallia and demons like the senshi. But then how had the man disappeared so completely like that? Was he a god or a demon?

'_He's both. You know that better than anyone.'_

"But who _is _he?" Zoisite was beginning to get frustrated. He punched the wall, knocking yet another hole through its flimsy surface. This place was such a ruin that he didn't need to worry if Minako would notice one more dent, didn't even have to think about things like that.

'_You should try and find him.'_

Zoisite smiled, "Yes. Yes I should!" He knew it was an extremely stupid idea, but finding the man seemed to give him some sort of purpose. And if he knew who this man was, if he knew for certain that magic existed, maybe he could get him to remove this stupid curse.

'_It's not a curse, stop denying things.'_

But Zoisite didn't listen to the voice anymore. His mind was made up; he was going to go and find this man, find out who he was, no matter how long it took him. He had to have something to do after all; and besides, everything happened for a reason, right?

It was then that the power cut out, switching off the television and silencing the irritating noise it had been making. Zoisite groaned – why did the power have to die like that and break his train of thought?

He quickly glanced up at the clock on the wall, squinting to make out the numbers on it in the blackness, and was quite shocked to find how late it was. Deciding immediately that he should go to sleep, Zoisite walked back into his room, locking the bedroom door behind him, and flung himself down onto his bed.

He hadn't felt at all tired before, but now his eyelids were beginning to close of their own accord. He couldn't actually remember the last time he had felt so exhausted – maybe years of sleep-debt were finally catching up with him. He didn't really have much time to dwell on this though, as almost as soon as he had closed his eyes, Zoisite found himself drifting off into a deep sleep – a sleep that was not so much for resting but for dreaming, for remembering things that had until then lain forgotten for thousands of years and were in truth never meant to be remembered.

* * *

As soon as he saw it Zoisite knew that he was dreaming. The garden was full of lush green vegetation of flowers of every shape and size imaginable, and even some that weren't. Things like that only existed in fairytales, though he had always been sure that they had been real once, a long time ago. The world had been beautiful then, before it was broken, before it became the bloodstained concrete jungel that he knew and despised so much.

Even if it was a dream, Zoisite didn't care. The feeling of the damp grass he was sitting on, the scent of wildflowers and greenery, even the way the light was being filtered through the trees, making it seem as green as the stone he was named for… all of this was far too real to be just something his mind had covered up. Besides, Zoisite didn't have a vivid enough imagination to conjure up magic like this; he had never seen the need for pointless fantasy.

Nonetheless he couldn't deny that it was beautiful, almost too beautiful. He got to his feet and began to walk, though he had no idea where he was headed. But he knew he had to go to this one place, had to go to the water's edge and wait for something… or rather someone.

As he walked Zoisite noticed that the trees were in full bloom, something he remembered Minako telling him about when he was younger but something he had never seen so fully with his own eyes. Cherry trees grew in abundance there; all he had seen before were pitiful half-dead things that hardly brought any splendour with them, but nevertheless they did colour the grey world for a short time each year. Ironic that a tree with connotations to death was seemingly the only life in Neo-Tokyo…

Soon enough Zoisite came to the banks of a shallow brook, which sang a calming melody as it ran across the stones and eventually out of sight. He had never seen water so crystal clear; it was almost entrancing. Zoisite knelt down by the river's edge and was slightly surprised when he his own reflection staring back at him. Yes, he saw himself in the river, but he looked somehow different than normal. He looked slightly older… and more _alive_. His eyes were no longer dead, and he couldn't remember if he'd ever seen them so bright as they were now.

"Vanity is unbecoming of you, my beautiful young Narcissus," a voice spoke and Zoisite started, nearly falling backwards into the river.

He turned around and saw a pair of cold grey eyes looking down on him, an amused smirk on a face he somehow knew to usually be filled with nothing but apathy and sometimes hatred. But that was only a mask, not that anyone but Zoisite knew that.

It was only then that Zoisite realised exactly whom he was talking to – the man he had met the other day in the real world, the silver-eyed, silver-tongued magician. But he looked different somehow (not surprising, Zoisite assured himself, because this was only a dream.)

Instead of being surprised, Zoisite found himself smiling. This was obviously who he had been waiting for.

"Narcissus, Lord Kunzite?" he asked, speaking without actually having any control over his words. It was almost as though he had been thrown into memories from a past life, absurd as that seemed. But 'Lord Kunzite?' Was that who this man was? Kunzite, how peculiar… another man named after a gemstone, just like he was…

Kunzite nodded and sat down next to him. "Narcissus is a figure from an old Venian legend. He was beautiful, loved by many, but vain and cruel. To cut a long story short the king of the gods decided to punish him by making him fall in love with the first thing he saw – namely his own reflection. He was so entranced by his own image that he eventually died. That's where this comes from." He picked up a small flower that littered the banks of the riverbed and handed it to Zoisite.

"It is indeed a beautiful flower," Zoisite mused. "But why would I do something so stupid as to fall in love with my own reflection? I have you after all…"

A small smile played on the older man's face. "True, but you do have your vain side at times, sakura."

Zoisite stuck his nose in the air. "What's wrong with wanting to look your best? How else am I going to impress you; I'm no good at anything else after all." Zoisite blushed upon realising what he'd just said aloud, clamping a hand over his mouth as if to prevent himself from letting anything else slip.

Kunzite laughed quietly, much to the boy's surprise. "Don't be a fool, Zoisite," he said. "You've already done more than enough to impress me already. And think about it, you're not even seventeen yet and you're already one of Endymion's top-ranking generals."

"Only thanks to you," Zoiste found himself whispering. "I'm too weak to get anywhere on my own, Nephrite was right about that…"

Kunzite sighed, "Don't listen to Nephrite, he's only trying to upset you when he says things like that. But then again maybe you shouldn't have made that comment about his star-readings."

"He deserved it," Zoisite huffed. "And he was insulting me, the bastard, what else did you expect me to…"

Zoisite found himself cut short as the other man pressed their lips together, though he drew back quickly, leaving Zoisite blushing even more deeply than before.

"You talk to much sometimes," Kunzite stated. "Or have you forgotten the real reason we decided to meet here?"

Zoisite scowled, "Of course I haven't forogtten. It's because only we can find this place; that way there's no risk of us being caught. God knows what they'd do to us were that to happen…" He felt himself paling with fear of whatever would have happened to them, though Zoisite did not consciously know what it was.

"That's exactly why we need to keep this whole affair secret," Kunzite replied. "The Terrans have never been the most accepting of people."

Zoisite sighed, "Back of Venus, no one would have cared."

"That's because only the Venians recognise love for what it is," Kunzite stated. "Empathy is their greatest skill – in that way they may even be more powerful than the Marians or the Plutonians at predicting people's futures."

Zoisite leant his head on the older man's shoulder, for once feeling nothing but contentment. If only all of life could be like this…

Kunzite cupped the boy's face in his hands and kissed him again, leaving Zoisite somewhat flushed by the time they broke apart. Zoisite then realised that there were tears in his eyes, something that felt strange to him after not having cried for so long. Life just wouldn't allow such things.

"Why?" he found himself asking. "Why do we have to hide away like this? Is it really that much of a crime to have fallen in love with someone? Are people really that unaccepting?"

Kunzite sighed and shook his head, "We're warriors, Zoisite, generals of King Endymion. We're not supposed to have emotions at all, you know that; the King sees such things only as weakness after all.

"Besides, isn't it better for things to be this way, for no one else to know? It would just be another thing for Nephrite to use against you…"

"And another reason for me to want to kill him," Zoisite muttered darkly.

Kunzite shook his head, "Don't be a fool, Zoisite. You have to put up with him for a little longer."

Zoisite smiled slightly, "I'm lucky to have you, aren't I?"

"What makes you say that?" Kunzite asked, frowning.

"Well I probably would have been locked up for murder or some other such thing if you hadn't been here," came the reply. "I'm not going to pretend any differently."

"It was obviously intended to be like this. No one can escape fate's plans," Kunzite replied.

"Now you're starting to remind me of Nephrite with all that talk about fate," Zoisite snickered.

Anyone else would have rolled his eyes in exasperation, but Kunzite wasn't surprised, and he knew Zoisite was joking anyway.

"Promise me one thing, Zoisite," Kunzite abruptly changed the topic.

"For you, anything, Lord Kunzite," Zoisite replied.

"Keep this a secret," Kunzite whispered. "Just do it for me if nothing else."

Zoisite nodded, "I suppose we have to anyway."

"We've worked so hard to get this far, I don't want to lose it all now," Kunzite said. Zoisite nodded again. Kunzite pulled him into a close embrace and they just sat there together, watching the cherry blossoms fall in silence.

* * *

Zoisite blearily opened his eyes as the cold light of morning began to creep in to his room. It was dim compared to the sunlight in his dreams, almost like he was seeing the sun from the bottom of the ocean, but it was still brighter than the smog-grey nights. The room smelt of cherry blossoms, which was odd for that time of year, especially considering the fact that only the smell of death would usually creep in through open windows. 

Zoisite lay still as he slowly let himself wake up. He hadn't wanted that dream to end: he had just wanted to sleep and never wake up again. The dream had been comforting in a way, almost like a memory rather than a fantasy. Maybe there really were deeper meanings to it than he would have guessed. That didn't really matter though; all that mattered was that he somehow knew the man's name.

"Kunzite," he whispered, the word feeling both foreign and familiar on his lips. "Kunzite."

He shook his head, sighed and sat up slowly, half intending to shut the window he had left open and then go back to sleep, but as soon as he stood up he realised something: the floor was coated with cherry blossoms, and indeed the room was full of them, the pink petals even somehow managing to have entwined themselves in his hair.

Cherry blossoms… it had something to do with that dream, he knew it did. That was what Kunzite had called him, wasn't it? Sakura… beautiful sakura…

A disembodied voice whispered, _'For you, sakura,'_ and for some reason Zoisite wasn't scared at all.


End file.
